Blue Collar
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! When Joe has to get a job, things don't go exactly as planned for the youth. See how Joe, Frank and their friends take on this new challenge.
1. Default Chapter

Seventeen-year-old Joe Hardy took a seat on the chair near the sofa in the cozy living room. His parents looked at him expectantly as he gave them his most winning smile. "I was wondering if I could have an advance on my allowance?" he asked.  
Laura smiled indulgently at the tow-headed youth who took after her in looks if not in manner but kept quite as her husband gently applied a little pressure to her shoulders where his arm was resting.  
  
"Joseph, we have already advanced your allowance for the next two months," Fenton said, his brown eyes a sharp contrast to his son's blue ones. "You're going to have to learn to budget or get a job."  
  
"This is a no, right?" Joe asked dryly. His father nodded and watched as his dejected son rose and went upstairs. Fenton Hardy, world-renowned private investigator, formerly of the New York City Police Department was, after all, a good father. Like his wife, he wanted to give his children everything but he knew if Joe didn't learn to control his finances now then he never would.  
  
Fenton gave a sigh wondering if Joe was mad at him. Laura tilted her head and kissed him on the cheek. "You did the right thing," she told him.  
  
"Well?" asked brown-headed Frank Hardy when his year younger brother entered his bedroom and flopped down on the bed.  
  
"No," Joe replied. "You were right, as usual. If I want any more money until school starts back up then I am going to have to earn it."  
  
"No time like the present," Frank suggested, smothering a grin when Joe threw him a dirty look.  
  
"You know," Joe huffed as he got to his feet. "Just once I wish you would be wrong."  
  
"Okay. Where can I go to apply where I might actually get hired?" Joe wondered aloud as he left the house. "The mall!" he answered his own question. Joe was grinning as he backed the van out of the drive. There were so many stores in the place he was bound to find a job there.  
  
Two hours later Joe had long since realized that finding a job wasn't as easy as he had thought it would be. A lot of the stores' managers knew Joe by name if not by sight and were well aware his activities as a detective would take precedence over being at work on time.  
  
"Sorry, Joe," said the manager at the ice cream shop on the first floor. "I just don't have anything for you."  
  
"I understand," Joe said, giving him a half-hearted smile. "Um...I don't suppose you know of anyone desperate enough for help to hire me?"  
  
The manager broke out laughing. "You make it sound like you're an undesirable," he said.  
  
"Isn't he?" asked the man who had been standing behind Joe since the manager had turned him down.  
  
"Good Heavens, no!" the manager declared. "Joe's one of the most honest guys in Bayport. He just can't guarantee he will show up for work everyday."  
  
"Why is that?" the man inquired.  
  
"Excuse me," interrupted Joe. "Who are you?"  
  
"This is Herb Jennings," the manager introduced the stranger to Joe. "He runs the hardware store two doors down."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Joe said, shaking Jennings' hand.  
  
"Now, why wouldn't you be able to report to work on time?" Jennings inquired.  
  
"My brother and I are amateur detectives," Joe answered. "Occasionally, something happens beyond our control that prevents us from being somewhere at a particular time."  
  
"You're a detective?" Jennings asked, amusement evident in his voice.  
  
"And a darn good one!" the ice cream shop manager inserted in Joe's defense. "His dad, Fenton Hardy, trained him."  
  
Jennings' mouth fell open and his brown eyes widened. Joe glanced at the guy behind the counter, his blue eyes twinkling. "Sorry," Jennings apologized after closing his mouth and clearing his throat. "My son and I operate the hardware store," he said. "But it would be nice to have an extra hand occasionally. Your absences wouldn't cause much of a problem," he continued, smiling at the excited anticipation showing on Joe's face. "I just require someone who is honest and does his best while he is at work."  
  
"That would be great!" Joe enthused.  
  
"It pays minimum wage," Jennings warned him.  
  
"Great," Joe repeated. To him, anything was better than nothing.  
  
"Can you start tomorrow morning at seven?" Jennings asked.  
  
"I thought the mall didn't open until ten," Joe said in confusion.  
  
"We have our own entrance," Jennings told him.  
  
"I'll be here at seven sharp," Joe agreed, smiling.  
  
Joe was waiting at the door of Jennings' Hardware and Supply when Jennings and a younger man arrived. "Joe Hardy, this is my son, Tim," Jennings introduced the two youths. The two boys exchanged greetings while the elderly Jennings unlocked the door and turned the alarm off.  
  
"Tim, watch the register while I show Joe around," Jennings ordered his son. Forty minutes later, Joe knew the layout of the place and had been shown how to operate the register.  
  
"Ah, our first customers of the day," Jennings said as the bell tinged and two men entered the store. "They are all yours," he told Joe, moving away.  
  
Plastering a smile on his face, Joe approached the two men. His eyes held a hint of recognition although Joe couldn't place either of the men at the moment.  
  
"Welcome to Jennings' Hardware and Supply," Joe greeted the two men. "Can I help you find something this morning?"  
  
"We need two shovels," said the taller of the two men. At six feet he was no taller than Joe was but the man's shoulders were almost twice as broad. His green eyes kept darting around the store nervously.  
  
"Yeah, and be quick," came the whinny voice of the dark-haired man beside him. "We're in a hurry."  
  
"Of course," Joe said affably as the bell tinged to announce another customer. Joe led the men to the aisle where the shovels were located.  
  
"Hardy!" shouted a friendly, familiar voice. Joe saw the two men look around anxiously. "What are you doing hanging around here? And so early in the morning too?" asked the speaker, a boy who played on Bayport High's football team with Joe.  
  
"I work here," said Joe.  
  
"Yeah, right," the boy snickered in disbelief. "What kind of mystery is there to solve in a hardware store?" he demanded. "And for that matter, if you are working on a case then why aren't you wearing a disguise?"  
  
Sighing, Joe turned to answer his friend. When he turned back around the two men were gone. A second later Joe heard the bell and knew they had left.  
  
At eleven Jennings told Joe to take a break and grab some lunch. Promising to be back in thirty minutes, Joe left and headed for the food court. As he neared it, he thought about the two men earlier that morning. Deciding to play a hunch he changed direction and headed for the alcove near the exit where several phones were available.  
  
Joe grabbed the handset and put through a call to home, dropping the required fifty cents in the receptor. He held his breath, hoping his dad or Frank would answer but instead the answering machine picked up. At the beep, Joe began speaking. "This is Joe. There were a couple of men in the store this morning that were acting suspicious. One was six feet tall with..."  
  
Joe broke off as something small and hard was shoved into his back. The receiver was taken from his hand and hung up. Joe looked at the man who had taken the phone away and immediately recognized him as the man with the large broad shoulders from earlier. Joe didn't have to turn around to know that the man with the gun on him was the five foot eight buddy.  
  
"We're going to leave nice and quiet," Joe was told by the short man behind him in his whinny voice. "You draw any attention and you and anyone else around dies." 


	2. Chapter 2

Frank parked his mom's car near a light blue Nova and climbed out. Entering the restaurant he spotted his seventeen-year-old girlfriend, Callie Shaw, sitting at a table near the salad bar surrounded by three teen-aged boys.  
Frank made his way over and the big, beefy blond to Callie's right stood up to let Frank sit down beside Callie. "Where's Joe?" Biff Hooper asked, taking a different seat.  
  
"At work," Frank answered, giving his friends an I-know-something-you-want-to-know smile.  
  
"Work?" demanded fair-haired Chet Morton, his brown eyes bulging.  
  
"Joe?" seconded Phil Cohen, his hazel eyes twinkling in merriment behind wire-framed lenses.  
  
"Okay, what gives?" demanded Callie swinging her head to look at Frank, causing her blond tresses to frame her graceful face. "Joe's working on a mystery and you're here?"  
  
"Not a mystery," denied Frank with a shake of his head. "An actual job. He's working at Jennings' Hardware in the mall."  
  
"Why?" Chet demanded.  
  
"And how?" Phil asked. "If he has a regular job then he won't be able to solve any mysteries."  
  
"Things have been kind of slow lately," Frank said. "But apparently, it's okay with Jennings if Joe keeps his own hours. Joe said he just had to do a good job when he was at work and not skip it without a good reason."  
  
"Sounds like a nice boss," Biff said a bit enviously.  
  
"Why don't we all pay him a visit?" Chet suggested. "I can't wait to see him in action."  
  
"Not a bad idea," agreed Frank. "He gets off at three so we could drop in around two-thirty. That shouldn't disrupt things too much."  
  
The five teens took their time eating. Normally, Tony Prito, the owner's son and manager of Mr. Pizza, would have personally handled their order and spent some time chatting but it was Tony's day off and he was nowhere to be seen.  
  
A little before two, the teens paid their bill and headed for the mall. "At least he hasn't been fired," Chet said teasingly. "The van's over there by an oak tree."  
  
The group entered the mall. "How about an ice cream before we go over?" Chet suggested. "We've got a little time left."  
  
"We just ate," Phil objected. Chet shrugged and went to place his order. When he returned with a double scoop rainbow waffle-cone they continued on their way to the hardware store.  
  
"Hi there," greeted a young man whose nametag identified him as Tim. "Can I help you?"  
  
"Actually, we were looking for Joe," Frank said. A bad feeling began to take hold of him when he saw a frown flitter across Tim's face. "He was supposed to get off at three, right?" he asked, glancing at his watch to double-check the time. It was two forty.  
  
"He left early," Tim said, his frown returning as he looked at Biff curiously. "Are you his brother?"  
  
"I am," Frank corrected him. "He got to leave early on his first day here?" he asked.  
  
"He left for a half an hour lunch break and never came back," Tim informed Frank.  
  
"Did he say anything before he left?" queried Phil.  
  
Tim shook his head. "He was just going to grab some lunch and come straight back."  
  
Frank's cell phone played a tune and he pulled it from his pocket. "Excuse me," he said, stepping away from everyone. He hoped it was Joe.  
  
"Frank!" he heard his mother's frantic voice.  
  
"Mom," he acknowledged her. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I think your brother is in trouble," she said. "He started to leave a message on the machine but it was cut off and he never called back."  
  
"What did he say?" Frank asked, gripping his cell tighter.  
  
"He said there were two suspicious men in the store this morning," Laura informed him. "One was six feet tall but that is as far as he got."  
  
"I'm at the mall now," Frank told her. "See if you can get a hold of dad and have him meet me at the hardware store." Frank hung up then returned to the others and relayed the message. 


	3. Chapter 3

"Tim, I need to see the manager," Frank said.  
"Sure," Tim agreed at once. "Dad!" he shouted, turning his head to where his father was pricing some items. "Can you come here?"  
  
"Is something wrong?" Jennings asked as he approached the youths.  
  
"Dad, this is Joe's brother, Frank," Tim introduced Frank.  
  
"I need to see your security tape from this morning," Frank requested and told him about Joe's interrupted message.  
  
"Of course," Jennings agreed at once.  
  
Frank turned to his friends. "Split up. Ask around and see if you can find out where Joe was last seen," he instructed.  
  
Frank followed Jennings into the back of the store and through a door marked personnel only. Inside was a desk with a computer setting on top of it and a printer on a side shelf. To the left of the desk was a file cabinet on top of which was a framed picture of Jennings, his son and a woman whom Frank assumed was Jennings' wife.  
  
Further back in the small office was a thirteen-inch monitor and below it was a video recorder. Jennings stopped the recorder and turned the monitor on. He then hit rewind and the screen remained blank except for the letters REW in the top right. In no time at all, the recorder stopped and Jennings hit play.  
  
Frank watched the screen as Jennings advanced the screen a few minutes at a time. "There!" Frank stopped him. Jennings moved his hand from the controls and watched Joe approach the men.  
  
Jennings sensed Frank stiffen as they watched Joe wait on the men. When Joe turned to see who had yelled at him Frank saw the men look at Joe curiously. Their curiosity turned to fear and then anger as they realized who Joe was. They left hurriedly before Joe had turned around.  
  
Jennings stopped the tape and looked at Frank who was still staring at the screen. "You know those two men," he observed.  
  
Frank nodded. "They are wanted for murder," he said. "The one with the big shoulders just made number one on the FBI's most wanted list two days ago."  
  
"And you think they kidnapped Joe because they thought he recognized them?" Jennings asked, his frown growing deeper.  
  
Frank nodded again. "I wonder why they wanted shovels?" he commented, looking thoughtful. His cell phone rang at that moment.  
  
"Frank?" his father's voice came through. "Any leads on Joe yet?"  
  
"Oooh yeah," Frank drawled out. "The two men Joe almost recognized are Dorian Stevens and Fred Hamby. They wanted shovels."  
  
Fenton let out a low whistle. "Call Chief Collig and tell him to alert the FBI then wait for him to arrive. I have an idea that I am going to follow up on. If I don't make it to the hardware store before you leave I will call you on your cell the first chance I get," he ended.  
  
Frank called the police station and asked to speak with Ezra Collig, Bayport's tall and graying chief of police. He relayed his father's orders then hung up. Looking back at the kindly storeowner Frank sighed. Jennings looked positively sick with worry. "It isn't your fault," Frank told the man. "This kind of thing happens all the time."  
  
"But it only happened because those men came into my store," Jennings said, scowling.  
  
"Joe has a tendency to get into trouble," Frank said, trying to calm the man. "He can't help it. If something happens within a one-mile radius of him then he will end up involved head over heels. All he has to do is walk down the street."  
  
"That's pushing it a bit, don't you think?" Jennings demanded sternly.  
  
"No," denied Frank. He told Jennings about the time Joe had gotten involved with a murderer and drug dealers just by stopping to tie his shoe on the way home from the arcade.  
  
Jennings didn't look like he felt any better by the time Frank had finished. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked.  
  
"Well, the police are going to want this tape," Frank answered. "And if either of the men return, could you call the police and me?" he asked, pulling out a business care he had printed up in quantity only a month before when he realized how much easier it would be to give a card than find a piece of paper and a pen every time he needed to share the information .  
  
"Of course I will," Jennings promised promptly. "And when you find your brother, please tell him he still has a job here if he wants it."  
  
"I know he will be glad to hear that," Frank said with a smile. "I suppose we had better wait for the police out front."  
  
Chet was the first to make it back to the hardware store. "He never made it to the food court," Chet informed them. "I asked at every stall."  
  
"No one I talked with has seen him at all today," Callie said, coming in behind Chet. "But the clerks I spoke with all said it has been busy today and they hadn't really been paying attention to anyone who didn't enter their store."  
  
Phil arrived a few minutes later. "They nabbed Joe at the phones," he informed Frank and the others. "I went to mall security. They have it on tape and they had another tape from outside the mall," he continued, his voice getting higher in pitch as he spit out the clue. "It shows Joe being forced into a hunter green Cadillac." 


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you have the tapes?" demanded Frank. 'Finally!' he thought. 'A solid lead.' "No," Phil replied. "Mall security said the Bayport PD would have to requisition it but I did manage to get the first three letters of the tag. It's AXT," he continued. "But I think that once we have the tape we can get close enough to see the rest of it."  
  
"You can do that with a VCR?" Jennings inquired in amazement.  
  
"No," Phil admitted. "But I can dub it to DVD and pop it in my computer. Of course, the police most likely have the equipment to do the same procedure."  
  
"You're right," concurred Ezra Collig, as he and Sergeant Con Riley came up behind the group. Collig turned to the curly haired sergeant beside him. "Go down to security and get those tapes," he instructed.  
  
"Yes, Sir," Con answered, looking at Phil questioningly. He wanted details and he didn't want to wait because both Frank and Joe were close friends of his.  
  
"I'll go with you," Phil said, aware of the look Con was giving him because he had been the recipient of similar ones from Frank for years.  
  
Collig took notes as Frank and Jennings told him about the two men on the tape and then followed Jennings into his office. Frank waited in the store with Callie, Chet and Biff who had returned while Collig was asking questions, for Fenton Hardy. Ten minutes later, Collig was still in Jennings' office, and Con and Phil had not yet returned but Fenton walked through the door looking more upset than even Frank expected.  
  
"What is it?" Frank demanded when his father reached him. His heart beat faster because he knew it had to have something to do with Joe.  
  
"Later," Fenton said then turned to Chet, Callie and Biff. "Do you kids have a way home?" he asked.  
  
"Sure," Callie answered as Phil and Con returned.  
  
"Call us if you need us," Biff told Frank and Mr. Hardy, knowing they had been dismissed.  
  
"Or if you find Joe," Chet added.  
  
"I will," promised Frank, giving his friends a wan smile. "Thanks."  
  
Callie took Phil's elbow and told him of Mr. Hardy's implied request that they leave as they walked away. Frank turned back to his dad. "Well?" he asked when it was just he, his father and Con.  
  
"Not here," Fenton replied, looking at the tapes in Con's hands questioningly.  
  
Con told him what was on the tapes. He had just finished when the office door opened and Chief Collig and Jennings exited. Frank introduced his father who thanked Jennings for his help and patience then suggested they all go to headquarters to view the license tag that Con had just told him about.  
  
Frank went to the parking lot and climbed into the van. All the way to the police station he thought about what his father had to say that he couldn't say in a public place. Were the kidnappers wanted for something other than murder? "Must be," Frank said aloud. Why else would his father be so hush-hush about it.  
  
At the police station Frank, Fenton, Chief Collig and Sergeant Riley congregated in the forensics lab while Officer Dalton worked his magic. Soon they had not only a clear picture of the tag but also of Joe being forced into the trunk of the car. The contents in the trunk were also clearly visible and consisted of two shirts and two pairs of loafers.  
  
"That's no help," scoffed Frank.  
  
"Neither is the tag," Riley said, looking up from the computer he was researching the tag on. "That car was reported stolen this morning at five-eighteen."  
  
"By?" demanded Fenton.  
  
"Hurd Applegate," was the answer.  
  
Fenton's scowl deepened. No help there he knew. Hurd Applegate was an upstanding member of the community and also considered Frank and Joe to be protégés of his since they had solved not only their first case for him but also their hundredth.  
  
Frank looked at his father, his expression one of a man who was about to lose all patience. "I called the Network," Fenton dropped his bombshell.  
  
"The Network?" Collig demanded sharply, his green eyes widening. "What have they to do with this?"  
  
"I have heard rumors that Dorian Stevens was getting involved with a faction that is planning an attack on selected members of congress," Fenton explained. "So when Frank told me he was one of Joe's abductors I called to see if the rumors were true."  
  
"And?" Frank asked.  
  
"They are," Fenton admitted with a weary sigh, running his hand through his thinning brown hair and letting it slide down to the base of his neck where he rubbed it; willing the tension to ease although he knew it was hopeless.  
  
"Joe's been kidnapped by Assassins?" Frank croaked in horror.  
  
"Terrorists," Fenton corrected him. "As far as the Network knows, this faction has nothing to do with the Assassins."  
  
"Just as bad," Collig stated bluntly. "I suppose they will be arriving here shortly?"  
  
Fenton shook his head. "No," he said. "They are letting the CIA handle this one."  
  
Frank fought to keep from showing his disappointment. If the Network had been involved then he would have had no trouble getting any information he needed but now he and his father would pretty much be on their own. Fenton had told his sons often enough that he refused to work with the CIA because he felt their methods were underhanded. He defended his cooperation with the Network because one knew where they stood with them.  
  
Frank scowled. Terrorists and the CIA. Would they ever get Joe back? 


	5. Chapter 5

"We should just kill him," Hamby whined. "We aren't kidnappers. It's too much trouble." "Well we are now," snapped Stevens, keeping his eyes the path ahead of them. "Until we're ordered to do otherwise, the kid stays alive."  
  
Joe wondered who gave the men their orders. On the ride out of town he had remembered where he had seen them before. They had been on the FBI's website the last time he had gone there for information for his dad. Both men were wanted for murder.  
  
The two men pulled Joe along between them down a dirt path that ended at the base of a rock outcrop. From there, they headed west for roughly a mile before coming to a stop at a log cabin. Hamby rapped on the door.  
  
"Who is it?" snarled a deep baritone from within.  
  
"Who do you think it is?" snapped Hamby irately.  
  
"We got the kid," Stevens said.  
  
"About time," returned the beefy, bearded man who opened the door. "Put him in the cellar."  
  
A few minutes later Joe was lying on the cellar floor. His feet were now bound and the rope that wrapped around his throat ran to his wrists and then to his feet so that if he tried to free himself he would strangle. The bandana that had been stuffed in his mouth in the mall's parking lot was gone only to be replaced by a wide piece of duct tape. He was left without a blindfolded however and Joe knew that meant there was no way he was going to be released by his captors.  
  
"Say cheese," the bearded man said mockingly as he used a Polaroid to snap a picture of Joe on the dirt floor. Joe blinked at the unexpected brightness but before his eyes could readjust to the dim light in the cellar, the light was extinguished as the door above closed after the men had exited.  
  
"Then tell me what they're doing in Bayport!" Fenton shouted at Agent Blaine, a man in his late twenties with dirty blond hair and sharp brown eyes.  
  
"I can't," Blaine responded in a calm voice. "It's classified. You will just have to let us do our job. We will find your son."  
  
"That's ridiculous!" Laura inserted, her blue eyes flashing. "My husband has top security clearance. There isn't any case he can't work on."  
  
"There's always a first, ma'am," Blaine stated, his expression sardonic. "I will be in touch," he added as he hurried from the room and out the front door.  
  
"What a horrible man," Laura stated. "You are not going to listen to him, are you?" she demanded, rounding on her husband.  
  
"Of course not," Fenton dismissed the notion. "I'm going to call around and see if any of the other stores have sold any shovels today to any non-regular customers," he said.  
  
"After the fiasco at the mall, they probably just stole some," Frank said with a scowl.  
  
"More than likely," agreed Fenton with a heavy sigh. "But we have to start somewhere. If I come up empty then you, your friends and I will have to start asking around. If the shovels were stolen then perhaps Joe is being held somewhere in the general vicinity where they went missing."  
  
Agent Blaine stepped into the passenger side of the car and pulled out a walkie-talkie. "I want all communication monitored," he instructed his men. "I want to know where each Hardy is at all times," he ended.  
  
"Even the woman?" asked the driver, quirking a sandy brow.  
  
Blaine gave a curt nod. "Oh yes," he stated. "We can't allow the enemy to use the boy and the enemy might consider Mrs. Hardy a weak link and go through her."  
  
"They are going to kill the boy," the driver stated.  
  
Blaine nodded. "There is more at stake here than just one life. But I have heard a lot about the youth. I am sure he would make the sacrifice himself." 


	6. Chapter 6

"Anything?" Frank asked as his dad entered the living room later that evening.  
"No," answered Fenton. "You've worked out a code with your friends for emergencies, correct?" he asked. At Frank's nod he continued. "Call Callie and have her gather everyone at Mr. Pizza," Fenton instructed. "I'm sure the CIA is monitoring our phone as well as watching the house and if we try to take an active role in looking for Joe they will try to prevent it."  
  
"I understand," Frank said. "It's time to let the CIA take control and try to relax with my best girl," he said with a grim set to his lips.  
  
"Be careful," Laura cautioned.  
  
"Don't worry, Mom," Frank said, kissing her cheek. "The worst that could happen is I get arrested for interfering with their investigation."  
  
Frank called Callie who spread the word. At eight p.m. Frank left the house and drove to Callie's where he and she climbed into the back floorboard of Mr. Shaw's car in the garage. A few minutes later Mr. and Mrs. Shaw left the house with music floating from an upstairs room where the light had been left on and the window open.  
  
The Shaws drove downtown, stopping the car only long enough for the teens to scamper out and into the darkness of an alley before continuing to a restaurant on the outskirts of town. Frank and Callie watched their taillights disappear around the corner ahead as another car approached then hurried to the corner and made the turn without even stopping for the stop sign.  
  
"CIA?" asked Callie as she and Frank exited the alley.  
  
"Yes," Frank answered. "Come on," he said, taking her hand and pulling her along. "Let's get to Mr. Pizza."  
  
They arrived to find Biff, Phil and Tony Prito sitting around a table with four vacant chairs. "Perfect timing," came a silky voice from behind Frank.  
  
Frank turned around and saw Joe's girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, accompanied by Chet Morton. "Any word yet?" Vanessa asked, her blue-gray eyes clouded with worry.  
  
"Not yet," Frank answered, wrapping an arm around the lithe blonde's shoulders. "But we will find him," he added, squeezing her shoulders comfortingly as the four joined the other boys.  
  
"You're not working?" Frank asked Tony in surprise.  
  
"I'm on break," the olive-skinned youth replied, his dark eyes watching Frank in concern. "But tomorrow I'm taking off," he continued. "The guys told me what happened and I have a petty good idea how we can help."  
  
"How?" asked Callie curiously. She had been racking her brains trying o figure out what the pow wow was for but hadn't been able to come up with any ideas.  
  
"The shovels," Phil answered. Tony had already presented his theory before the others had joined them. "Those goons obviously needed them for something and since they didn't get them at the mall..."  
  
"Then they had to buy them somewhere else or steal them," Tony ended.  
  
"That's it exactly," Frank said, grinning as he sat down. "Dad's already checked all of the other places that sell shovels and no one matching Hamby's or Stevens's description has bought any. Matter of fact," he continued, "no one has bought any that wasn't a regular customer of the establishments they were purchased from."  
  
"Stolen?" Chet asked. "Not from the stores," answered Frank. "Dad wants us to ask around, beginning the search around the mall, to see if anyone has had any shovels stolen. He believes that if one were actually stolen then there is a good chance Joe is being held close by."  
  
"Makes sense," Biff said. "I guess. We can't start tonight, though. Most people who leave their tools easily accessible are farmers and they normally go to bed early."  
  
Frank scowled. "I know," he said. "I just wish there were something else we could do. I don't like waiting."  
  
"What about the car?" Chet asked.  
  
"Stolen," Frank answered miserably.  
  
"Sir, you need to see this," Agent Schroeder said, handing an envelope to Agent Blaine. "It was hand delivered to the Hardy's mailbox. I'm sorry but the deliverer got away. There were no prints and the paper is standard notebook."  
  
Agent Blaine opened the envelope and removed a folded piece of paper and a photograph. The picture was of Joe Hardy, bound and gagged lying in a darkened area on what appeared to be a dirt floor.  
  
Blaine unfolded the paper. His eyes narrowed as he read the contents. He refolded the paper and returned it and the photograph to the envelope before giving them back to Schroeder. "Get it to our handwriting analyst," he ordered. "And place Fenton, Laura and Frank Hardy in protective custody." 


	7. Chapter 7

After Frank and the others had finished making arrangements to meet the next day and discuss their findings, Frank asked Chet to take Callie home.  
"No problem," Chet agreed, looking at his friend curiously.  
  
"I'm fine," promised Frank, interpreting the look. "I just need some fresh air and thought I would walk home."  
  
"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Callie in concern.  
  
"Yes," Frank assured her before kissing her goodbye. "See you all tomorrow," he added as he left.  
  
As Frank neared his house he slowed his gait, coming to a complete stop at the bushes bordering the Hardy lawn with that of their neighbors and kneeling down. Agent Blaine and four other CIA agents were herding his parents into a car.  
  
His eyes hardening, he stealthily made his way closer as his dad refused to get into the car. "This is preposterous!" thundered Fenton, his brown eyes blazing. "You have no right to do this."  
  
"I am not going to argue with you," Blaine told Fenton calmly. "You will go as a guest or as a prisoner but you will go."  
  
"You're despicable," Fenton spat. "Joe is my son and I have every right to remain..."  
  
"You have no rights at the current time," Blaine dismissed him and turned away. "Take them," he ordered.  
  
Once the car had departed with Fenton and Laura, Blaine turned to another man. "Find Frank Hardy," he snapped. "He's a security risk."  
  
"He's only a boy," the man objected.  
  
"He's Joe Hardy's brother," Blaine stated coldly. "The enemy made their intentions known via the letter we intercepted. It was made perfectly clear that Joe will be killed if the instructions are not carried out. That makes every member of the boy's family a threat and they will be treated as such," Blaine explained.  
  
"If Frank Hardy surrenders willingly, he will be taken to join his parents in protective custody," Blaine continued. "If not, place him under arrest and not under the jurisdiction of the local authorities. They have soft spot for the Hardys."  
  
"Yes, Sir," the agent snapped with a small salute. "His vehicle is still parked at the Shaw residence."  
  
"Keep a man there," Blaine instructed. "And monitor each of their closest friends," he added.  
  
"Yes, Sir," the agent replied again before turning away to carry out his orders.  
  
Frank remained where he was until all but one of the men had left. Now what? he wondered silently as he slipped away into the darkness. How was he going to find out what was in the letter? How was he going to find Joe before it was too late? 


	8. Chapter 8

Joe blinked as the door opened and a pair of work boots began the descent into the cellar. Another pair of boots followed and soon Joe was staring up in shock at the face of one of his captors. "Sorry, Joe," the man said looking down at the youth. "Your father hasn't complied with my orders. He will have to be taught a lesson," the man added as Joe felt a boot make contact with his back.  
  
Joe groaned and rolled onto his back before he could be kicked again and so the boot made hard contact in his side. Joe shut his eyes and groaned again as the pain began to radiate. Again and again Joe felt the steel-toed work boot make contact with his side.  
  
"Enough," said the man whose appearance had surprised Joe. "Pull up his shirt. We want a good picture for his father."  
  
Joe groaned again as the fingers brushed his bruised and tender flesh in their task. Click! Another Polaroid snapshot was taken and the two men retreated leaving Joe sore, hungry and thirsty.  
  
"Con, I need your help," Frank said when Sergeant Riley entered the gas station at the corner near the police station the next morning.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Con hissed. "There's an APB out on you."  
  
"By the CIA, I know," Frank acknowledged. "I overheard Agent Blaine talking last night. Someone sent a letter to us that the CIA intercepted. That's why they forced Dad and Mom into protective custody. The CIA is going to let them kill Joe."  
  
"What do you need?" Con asked. He knew he could get into serious trouble not only by not arresting Frank but also by helping him. But Frank and Joe were his friends and he would do whatever it took to help save Joe.  
  
"For starters, I need to know what was in the letter yesterday," Frank said.  
  
"We don't have it," Con said. "But we did get to the one delivered earlier this morning before the CIA. Chief Collig ordered every test in the book on it and is having Officer O'Malley working with the sketches to do a picture of the guy he saw tossing it onto your walk from his motorcycle."  
  
"Anyway I can see it?" asked Frank.  
  
"Let me take you in," Con said.  
  
"What?" gasped Frank, his brown eyes widening in shock. Was Con really betraying him?  
  
"Look, the chief doesn't want you in custody," Con said. "Because not only do you have your dad's blessing on this case but the chief can't stand Blaine. I'll run you in and you will get to see what we have. After that, we can arrange an escape."  
  
"All right," agreed Frank after thinking it over. "I guess I don't really have any other options."  
  
"Do you think they found Frank?" Laura asked Fenton once they were left alone in their bedroom.  
  
"I doubt it," replied Fenton, sitting down beside her and pulling her into his arms. He kissed her forehead lightly. "Let's take a shower before we go to bed," he suggested, nuzzling her neck.  
  
Laura stiffened at the suggestion that was absurd under the circumstances. "All right," she agreed and let her husband lead her into the bathroom. There, Laura opened her mouth to say something but Fenton put a finger to his lips and shook his head. He turned on the shower and began disrobing.  
  
Frowning, Laura followed suit. They stepped into the shower and Fenton pulled the curtain closed. "I have a plan," Fenton said.  
  
"You're going to leave me here," Laura stated a bit forlornly.  
  
"I have too," Fenton replied, his voice only loud enough for Laura to hear him over the spray. "Frank is going to need help," he said, lifting Laura's chin so he could look into her sad blue eyes. "We have to find Joe soon."  
  
"I know," whispered Laura, burying her face in Fenton's furry chest. "Be careful?" she begged him.  
  
"I will," he said, kissing the top of her head. "And I promise: the four of us will be home within forty-eight hours."  
  
"How can you guarantee that?" Laura demanded in a deceptively calm voice. She so wanted to believe him.  
  
Fenton squeezed her tight. "I'd better..." he began, starting to move away but stopping as Laura grabbed two handfuls of chest hair.  
  
"Tell me," she ordered, her tone firm and authoritative.  
  
"Agent Kappan told me what was in the letter Joe's captors sent," Fenton explained. "If we can't find Joe by tomorrow night, it will be too late." 


	9. Chapter 9

"Good," said a man with short gray hair and sharp green eyes as Frank was led into the precinct in handcuffs.  
  
Frank looked at the suited man in disgust but kept his mouth shut. "Take him to the Chief's office," Sergeant Riley was instructed.  
  
"I was going to," Con replied haughtily. He was rapidly growing to despise the CIA, all distinguishable by their suits and the air of superiority that seemed to permeate the area surrounding them.  
  
The man smothered a grin and turned back to the officer at the front desk as Con and Frank went deeper into the building. "Are you sure Chief Collig won't keep me here?" Frank whispered nervously.  
  
"Positive," Con whispered back. They arrived at Sergeant Thompson's desk near the chief's door.  
  
"Go on in," Thompson instructed them.  
  
"Get those off of him," Collig snapped grumpily after the two had entered his office. "And close that door!"  
  
"Wait!" said the gray-haired agent as he hurried forward before Con could get it shut.  
  
"Finished harassing my men outside?" Collig demanded, getting to his feet and glaring at the agent.  
  
"I wasn't harassing anyone," the man denied after he had shut the door behind him.  
  
"Dad!" gasped Frank in surprise. The disguise his dad was wearing was impeccable and the voice he had used previously had been deep but now that he was speaking normally, Frank knew it was his father.  
  
Fenton walked over and gave Frank a hug after Con released him from the manacles. "Are you okay?" he asked.  
  
"Fine," Frank answered. "But what about you and mom? I saw the CIA cart you off."  
  
"Your mother is still in protective custody," Fenton replied.  
  
"How did you get away?" Frank asked curiously.  
  
Fenton blushed. "With Laura's help," he answered evasively before changing the subject. "Have there been any more attempts at communication from Joe's kidnappers?" he asked, looking at Chief Collig.  
  
"This morning at six a.m.," acknowledged the Chief. He reached for the envelope on his desk but paused with his hand lying on top of it. "It doesn't say what you were supposed to have done," he continued. "I guess that was in the first one."  
  
"It was," acknowledged Fenton. "One of the agents was with the NYPD when I was there," he explained. "He told me what the first letter said."  
  
"What do we need to do?" asked Frank.  
  
"Not what we were instructed to do," replied Fenton.  
  
"But Joe.." Frank began a heated objection.  
  
"Would not want us to sacrifice hundreds of lives for his," Fenton ended sternly. He held out his hand for the envelope. "May I?" he asked.  
  
Chief Collig lifted the envelope and placed it in Fenton's hand. He winced as Fenton pulled out the photograph showing Joe's colorful side. Fenton bit his bottom lip and removed the letter after Frank took the photo from him.  
  
"What does it say?" asked Frank, his voice filled with the anger he was feeling at the people who had hurt his brother.  
  
"You now have thirty-six hours left to comply," Fenton read. "The injury your son has sustained is the first of many to come if you fail to do as you have been instructed."  
  
"What do they want?" Con asked.  
  
"They want me to help them blow up The Excelsior hotel," Fenton answered. "Some VIP's are arriving there at noon tomorrow."  
  
"What are you supposed to do?" Frank asked.  
  
"First, to volunteer my services to the concierge," Fenton informed them. "I am to get myself the position of chief of security for the duration of the meeting."  
  
"But you can't do that because the CIA would nab you," Frank said with a scowl.  
  
"After I secure the job, I am supposed to feed them information about who is scheduled to attend and when the participants are due to arrive," Fenton concluded.  
  
"Since you obviously can't do any of that, what are you going to do?" inquired Collig with a quirk of his brow. "Keep in mind that you have all the support you need from me," he added.  
  
"My guess is that they already have someone in the hotel," Fenton said. "And I'm betting they will know me when I get the job even if I am in disguise."  
  
"What?" Collig, Riley, and Frank all looked askance at him.  
  
"The meeting is top secret," Fenton explained. "It was on a need to know basis but somehow the information leaked out. Plus, our house has been watched since the CIA arrived and one of the terrorists has managed to deliver two messages by hand without getting caught," he added.  
  
"What are you getting at?" Collig asked.  
  
"He's saying, someone in the CIA is a traitor," Frank said. "One of the men who was at our place last night." 


	10. Chapter 10

"Ezra, you will have to find the spy," Fenton told him. "Frank, nor I, will be able to get too close." He pulled a small notepad from an inner pocket and a pen. "I'll make a list of the agents who were there last night and put them in order of possibility."  
  
"Carl Kappan is first," Fenton said, writing the name down. "He started out as a cop with the NYPD. He was an honest cop but since he disobeyed orders and made sure I knew what the first communication said, he must be considered.  
  
"Second is Donald Schroeder," Fenton continued. "He's Blaine's second in command and privy to more than any of the other agents who were present last night except, of course, for Blaine.  
  
"Peter Billings is next," Fenton stated. "I noticed he kept slipping away every couple of hours but since we were effectively under house arrest, I couldn't follow him.  
  
"Jeff Riser, Ted Cameron, Steve Pierce, Nick Kaplan and Eric Sullivan were there but I can't tell you anything about them," he said. "The last person is Terrence Blaine. He's running the show and I doubt he is the traitor but then, I could be wrong," he concluded.  
  
"Okay, you have something to do and so does Chief Collig and Con," Frank said. "But what's my assignment?"  
  
"Try to get in touch with your friends without getting caught," Fenton said. "We still need to find out about the shovels."  
  
"And if no one is missing any?" demanded Frank because he really believed this would be a dead end.  
  
"Go back to the mall," Fenton instructed. "Ask about Hamby and Stevens. Maybe someone saw them around that had already left before you discovered Joe was gone."  
  
"That's such a long shot," Frank complained in disgust. "Does it even matter? We know they took Joe and we know they were in a stolen car."  
  
"Also an idea," Fenton said, ignoring Frank's outburst. "Talk to Hurd Applegate. Talk to his neighbors. We need to find out where Hamby and Stevens are staying. If we can get a direction then at least we have a start."  
  
When Frank left the police station he was unrecognizable. At the chief's suggestion Frank had been transformed in the locker room with the help of Sergeant Riley, Officer Sampson, and Lieutenant Bailey. His short, wavy brown hair was now long and blond, thanks to a wig that had been formed into dreadnoughts. His puppy dog brown eyes were now a dull hazel via the magic of colored contact lenses and with the help of hidden heels inside specially made sneakers, he was now two inches taller.  
  
His clothing had changed from khakis and a beige tee shirt to a pair of faded jeans with holes; one in a conspicuous place that Frank refused to acknowledge for fear of blowing his cover by blushing. He wore a tye-dyed shirt with The Grateful Dead on the front and had one ear pierced with a dangling silver dragon earring.  
  
Frank left the station via the rear entrance and headed downtown to meet his friends, well aware there would be agency men in the vicinity because of their orders to keep an eye on his friends. He took a deep, calming breath and released it as he turned the last corner. He fought the urge to look around as he entered Barney's Burgers and ordered a combo. Gathering his purchase, he filled his cup with soda at the fountain before turning around.  
  
He was grateful the place was so crowded. Asking to sit with his friends wouldn't seem so out of place now. He crossed the floor to where they had pulled two tables together. "Keep cool guys," he said softly through barely moving lips. "We're being watched." He deepened his voice before speaking aloud. "This joint is packed. Mind if I eat here?"  
  
"No, of course not," Biff answered, shoving a chair out a bit beside him. The chair next to Callie was also empty but he figured since Frank was in disguise that his sitting next to her might raise eyebrows.  
  
"Thanks," Frank said, sitting down in the proffered chair. Again, he lowered his voice and told them about the CIA taking his mom and dad, his dad's escape and his own evasive maneuvers. "Did anyone lose any shovels?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"Nope. Nada. Sorry," his friends all replied.  
  
"But I did learn something," Vanessa said, her eyes gazing at Frank with pride. "Those two men who took Joe have been seen a lot by Kenny Whitaker. He said they have a red pick-up and he's seen them going into the mall's parking lot at all times of the day. Once, he saw the truck there at night."  
  
"You mean their hideout is at the mall?" Chet asked with a dumbstruck expression.  
  
"No," Frank said. "But it does mean they must know someone there. We need to find out who."  
  
"Want us to set up shop there?" asked Phil eagerly.  
  
"No," Frank said again. "You guys are being watched. Having the CIA, and they are kind of noticeable, at the mall might spook'em. No. I think the mall is my job, but could you talk to Hurd Applegate and his neighbors?" he continued. "See if anyone saw Hamby or Stevens show up?"  
  
"Will do," Phil and Chet acknowledged. Frank and the others finished their meal and Frank stood up to leave.  
  
"Thanks," he said, picking up the debris from his lunch.  
  
"No problem," Phil said. "Sorry we can't give you a ride but we're waiting on a friend of ours. He's late but unless he's in trouble he always shows."  
  
"I understand," Frank said, smothering a grin at Phil's performance for their audience. "Bye."  
  
"Well?" asked Hamby when he answered his cell phone at two o'clock that afternoon. "Yeah, I understand. Will do," he added, hanging up.  
  
"What did the boss say?" Stevens asked.  
  
"Hardy's there," Hamby informed him. "So the kid dies slow."  
  
"How?"  
  
"A few more kicks in the side," Hamby answered. "Boss says he will bleed internally. The kid will live long enough to talk to his dad if we need him to but shouldn't last much past tomorrow night so he won't be able to identify any of us."  
  
"You look happy," Stevens said, standing up.  
  
"Kidnapping is too much of a risk," Hamby explained. "I'll be happier when the kid is dead."  
  
"Don't worry," Stevens said. "I'll make sure his injury is fatal."  
  
"We'll make sure," Hamby said, putting a hand on Stevens's arm to stop him before he could move toward the cellar's entrance. "I missed out on the fun this morning too." 


	11. Chapter 11

Frank took a bus to the mall and sauntered inside. He strolled around asking different people if they had seen anyone resembling the two men.  
  
Frank grew frustrated as each inquiry was met with a negative reply. If the two men came here frequently they must have been seen unless they went to a specific store that had it's own entrance. Obviously it wasn't the clothing store he had just left which meant it had to be either Mayer's Department store, Mulligan's or Jennings' Hardware.  
  
He wished mall security had tapes of the stores but that was the responsibility of the individual establishments. With a sigh he headed to the nearest store with its own entrance: Mulligan's.  
  
"Wakey, wakey," Hamby said entering the cellar with Stevens right behind him.  
  
Joe blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light filtering in through the entrance. Hamby knelt down beside Joe and pulled the gag from his mouth.  
  
"Thirsty?" he asked in pseudo concern. He held his hand out to Stevens who put the cup of water he had brought with him into Hamby's hand.  
  
Hamby lifted Joe's head and placed the cup to his lips. He tilted it as Joe began to drink. Soon, it was all gone. "More?" Hamby inquired.  
  
"No," Joe replied. He was still thirsty but there was something about the way Hamby was looking at him that sent rivulets of fear racing along his spine.  
  
"Sure?" Hamby asked again. "You might not get another chance."  
  
"No, thank you," Joe replied firmly.  
  
"Sure you do," Hamby insisted. "Go get him some more," he added to his pal.  
  
"Why?" Stevens grumbled. "He doesn't want it."  
  
"Just get it," Hamby snarled. Still grumbling Stevens retreated. When he returned he handed Hamby a cup of water that was twice the size of the previous one.  
  
"Drink up, Blondie," Hamby ordered, starting to put the cup to Joe's lips.  
  
"No," Joe refused and clamped his lips together.  
  
"We could do this the hard way," Hamby warned him. "But considering what's coming up, you might want to rethink that."  
  
'I knew it!' Joe thought, paling as Hamby put the cup to his lips.  
  
"There's a good boy," Hamby praised Joe once the cup was empty. He ruffled Joe's hair and stood up.  
  
"Now?" Stevens demanded impatiently.  
  
"Yes, now," Hamby agreed. "But be sure it's on the same side," he cautioned. "The boss doesn't want Hardy to find out we've been making the kid worse when he's been following orders."  
  
"Gotcha," Stevens said, lifting Joe's shirt to check which side was bruised. "This is going to be fun," he added, smiling down into Joe's horrified eyes. He brought back his foot and then slammed it forward into Joe's already tender flesh.  
  
"Aaieee!" Joe cried out in pain. Again and again Stevens' foot made contact with Joe's side.  
  
"Enough," Hamby ordered a minute later. "My turn."  
  
Joe let out a whimper as Stevens moved away and Hamby came to stand beside him. As Hamby's foot made its first contact, Joe blacked out. 


	12. Chapter 12

"Can I help you?" Tim asked the disguised Frank as he entered the store near closing time.  
  
"Unfortunately, I doubt it," Frank answered. "But maybe?"  
  
"Have we met?" Tim inquired, arching a brow at the familiar voice.  
  
"Don't give me away," pleaded Frank. "But I'm Joe's brother, Frank."  
  
"Why the disguise?" Tim questioned curiously.  
  
"The CIA wants me in protective custody," explained Frank. "But I'm going to find Joe."  
  
"Okay," Tim said slowly. "But why are you here? They haven't come back."  
  
"That you know of," Frank corrected him. "My source told me Hamby and Stevens have been seen coming to the mall even when it's closed. That means they must know someone who works here."  
  
"Any idea who?" Tim asked.  
  
"No," Frank replied with a scowl. "But I figure if I hang around long enough I will find out. Is your dad around?" he asked. "I need to ask him for a favor."  
  
"Sure," Tim answered. "Just let me close the mall entrance gate and I will take you to him."  
  
"Need a hand?" offered Frank.  
  
"No thanks. I got it," Tim declined. He grabbed a handle protruding in the center of the entryway at the top and pulled. A clanging sound accompanied the metal gate as it made its way down to connect with the locking devices at the floor on each side. Tim gave the handle a pull to make sure it was locked then stood up straight and smiled at Frank. "You got here at the right time," he said. "I have already locked the other entrance."  
  
"I thought your hours were longer," Frank said, following Tim to the office.  
  
"We open earlier," acknowledged Tim. "But we close at the same time." Tim opened the office door. "Dad," he said as Frank stepped inside. "Frank Hardy is here."  
  
Frank's mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide even as he spun around to make a run for it but Tim was ready. As Frank's head turned Tim's fist caught his jaw. Frank fell to the floor from the unexpected contact.  
  
"Well now," Jennings said as Stevens and Hamby reached down and hauled Frank to his feet, trapping his arms behind him. "Welcome."  
  
Frank glared at Jennings. Joe's job had been a trap. He should have known no employer could have been that understanding. "You set Joe up!" he accused Jennings.  
  
"How could I not?" Jennings replied, smiling. "The poor boy was asking everyone for a job. Tim saw him asking at the record shop then came back and told me so I followed him and got in just as he was about to give up."  
  
"Then you had those two goons pretend to need shovels the next morning," Frank said. "Since they were already wanted no one would suspect you were behind his kidnapping."  
  
"Very good," Jennings congratulated the youth. "It is working out very well too," he continued. "Fenton Hardy is currently in charge of security at The Excelsior and..." he broke off as the phone rang.  
  
A hand was clamped over Frank's mouth as Jennings reached for the handset. "Jennings' Hardware," Jennings answered. "What?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Oh no," he said in answer to a question. "Let him believe he has the upper hand. At least for the moment," he added, giving Frank a smile that boded ill for the youth.  
  
Jennings hung up the phone. "It seems your father has only been pretending to follow orders," he said. "Let's see how well he obeys when his youngest son is dead and his eldest is next in line." 


	13. Chapter 13

"No!" Frank screamed through the hand as he began struggling. A blow to the side of his head ceased his movements.  
  
"We can't get him out of here now," Tim complained looking at the slumping form held vaguely upright by Hamby and Stevens. "There are still too many people around."  
  
"Get some rope and duct tape," Jennings ordered his son. "We'll leave him here until later. For now, we have another kid to deal with."  
  
"Can't we wait until we take this one?" Hamby whined. "It's a long hike from the road to the cabin."  
  
"You're just out of shape," Stevens told him snidely.  
  
"Wait if you like," Jennings said. "As a matter of fact, let this one watch you finish the other one off," he decided. "Then he can tell his father we don't bluff."  
  
"Fenton, I'm glad you called," Chief Collig said when he picked up the phone from the end table beside his sofa.  
  
"Sorry to call you at home," Fenton apologized. "But this is the first opportunity I have had to call."  
  
"Don't worry about it," the chief told him. "The agents all checked out," he said. "Billings was the agent who was on duty both times the envelopes were delivered but his only crime was negligence. He kept slipping off for a smoke."  
  
"Peachy," grumbled Fenton.  
  
"I talked with Blaine," Collig continued. "Billings will be reprimanded. As for the others, they all have exemplary records and none of them have had any contact with Stevens or Hamby that we could discover. For that matter, except for Kappan, this is the first time any of the men have been in this part of the country in over a year. Kappan has family in New York City," Collig explained.  
  
"Have you heard from Frank?" Fenton inquired.  
  
"No," Collig informed the worried father. "But I did hear from one of his friends. Phil Cohen called because he was worried. Apparently, Frank learned that Hamby and Stevens have a contact at the mall and he was going to search that person out. I had Riley check the tapes in mall security and he saw Frank going into the hardware store right before they closed. He probably left by their private entrance."  
  
"Or not," Fenton said, a horrifying thought coming to him. "Can you run a background check on Jennings?" he requested.  
  
"Sure," Collig agreed. "But why?"  
  
"Just a feeling," Fenton said. "It is possible he was in on Joe's kidnapping and if that's the case then they may have Frank too."  
  
"If that were the case then Frank would still be in the mall," Collig told him. "After Phil told me about the reason Frank was going to the mall I set up sentries at each entry. If they show up, or if anyone tries to leave after hours, then we will know about it."  
  
"Thank you," Fenton said. "One more favor?" he asked. "I need a check on Anthony Ferguson. He's part of hotel security."  
  
"Give me thirty minutes," Collig said.  
  
"Thanks again," Fenton said before hanging up.  
  
When Fenton called back thirty minutes later there was no answer. His brow wrinkling in concern, he called the police station and requested to be put in touch with the chief.  
  
"Fenton," Ezra's voice came over the line. "Ferguson and Jennings are first cousins. Hamby, Stevens and Jennings' son arrived at the mall five minutes ago."  
  
"Don't apprehend them," Fenton said. "They probably do have Frank and if so they will take him to wherever they are holding Joe."  
  
"Way ahead of you," Collig said. "I've given orders for surveillance only. If they leave, they will be followed in unmarked cars."  
  
"Where are you?" Fenton inquired.  
  
"On my way to headquarters," Collig replied. "I intend to stay on top of this."  
  
"I'll meet you there," Fenton said. "But first I'm going to feed Ferguson a little false information."  
  
"Let's go," Tim said, pulling Frank to his feet.  
  
"Where is your dad?" Stevens asked. "I thought he was going to meet us here."  
  
"He went to see Anthony," Tim said with a shake of his head. "Then he was going straight to the cabin."  
  
Joe's eyes opened slowly. The room was dark with only a hint of light shining around the cracks of the cellar door. He shut his eyes tight as a wave of pain rocked him. His side hurt and he was hot and oh so very thirsty. Not a good sign, he knew.  
  
He had to get free. If he didn't get help soon he knew he would die. He jerked his hands only to feel the ropes constrict his throat. How was he supposed to get out of these? He took a deep breath and began twisting his wrists.  
  
He was burning up and sweating and the sweat provided some measure of resistance to the ropes. Every sixty seconds he would stop moving and relax. Then he would breathe and cough before taking another breath and starting again. It was a tedious task and surely took a good hour to accomplish but he did manage to get the ropes off of his wrists.  
  
He gingerly removed the balance of his restraints and got to his hands and knees. He got shakily to his feet and made his way to the steps. He was lucky the door hadn't been locked. Breathing heavily, his gaze wandered to the kitchen where a jug of water sat on the countertop. Resisting the urge to go after it he moved to the front door. He stopped and rested his body briefly against the doorframe, listening. Nothing but the normal sounds of the woods.  
  
He untwisted the feeble lock on the door and opened it wide. With a shaky hand, he pulled it closed, forgetting about the lock because they would know he was gone soon enough anyway. Holding his swollen side, he began the long, arduous journey from the cabin to the road.  
  
Several times he had to stop and lean against a tree for support but he always started his trek again. By the time he reached the road his head was swimming and his vision was blurred. He fell to his knees as a car screeched to a halt inches from him. He fell to the hard ground as the vehicle's occupant came to stand over him. The last thing Joe could make out was grim satisfaction registering on the face of a stranger. 


	14. Chapter 14

Tim, Hamby, and Stevens arrived at the road leading to the cabin and parked their vehicle in the brush near Ferguson's car. Hamby pulled the tarp from the back and pulled Frank to the edge of the pick-up bed. He untied Frank's ankles and hauled him to his feet.  
  
After a brisk walk the quartet arrived at the cabin. Hamby knocked on the door and Jennings opened it and let the group inside. Frank was shoved roughly down beside the bound figure of his father.  
  
"You honestly thought you could fool us?" Jennings demanded of Fenton, ripping the fake mustache from his upper lip.  
  
"No," Fenton answered. "I knew I wouldn't. That's why I got the job there."  
  
"And only pretended to do what you were supposed to do," Ferguson put in snidely. "But I was wise to you all along. I knew you wouldn't do it."  
  
"And you were right," Jennings admitted. He shook his head at Fenton. "It's too bad," he said. "I honestly thought you cared more for your family than that. But now, I think it is time to carry out my threat, don't you?" Fenton paled. "Tell me, Fenton," Jennings continued. "Are you ready to watch young Joseph die?"  
  
"Leave my sons out of this," Fenton snarled.  
  
Laughing, Jennings motioned for his men to bring the two Hardys and led the way down to the cellar. "Where...where is he?" Jennings screamed, rounding on Hamby and Stevens.  
  
"He was here when we left," Hamby asserted.  
  
"Of course he was," Jennings replied sarcastically. "Just like you locked the door behind you."  
  
"We did," Hamby insisted.  
  
"Then where is he?" Jennings demanded angrily. "He couldn't have gotten away on his own."  
  
"He must have," Stevens said. "Look," he added, pointing to the ropes lying in the floor. "They aren't even cut. He must have escaped."  
  
"No matter," Jennings said. "If you two did your job he'll be lying dead outside somewhere. Any movement would only increase the damage."  
  
"We did it just the way you said," Hamby promised. "Lots of water and lots of pain."  
  
"Bastards!" snarled Fenton trying to struggle free.  
  
"Kill the boy," Jennings ordered, staring Fenton in the eyes. "Hardy can watch his eldest die and then we will locate Joe's body."  
  
"Stop right there!" ordered a voice easily recognized by the Hardys.  
  
Everyone froze as the speaker and three other men emerged from behind shelves in the cellar. Each man wore a suit and held a weapon.  
  
"Joe?" rasped Fenton in relief. "You found him here?"  
  
"No," Blaine answered as his men hurried forward and ushered them upstairs were more agents and Chief Collig and part of the Bayport police force were waiting.  
  
"We have to find him," Frank declared as Blaine released him from his bonds. "He could be dying."  
  
"Is Joe okay?" Collig demanded, coming down the steps into the cellar. He had followed Frank and his captors and met up with the CIA agents outside the cabin.  
  
"He's not here," Fenton growled in frustration.  
  
"I'll start a search of the woods," Collig said, turning around.  
  
"Not necessary," Blaine interrupted him.  
  
"Why?" Frank demanded.  
  
"He did escape," Blaine announced. "But he collapsed on the main road. I took him to Bayport General where he is currently undergoing surgery. Your wife is there with Agent Billings."  
  
"Why didn't you say so before?" Frank demanded.  
  
Blaine raised an eyebrow at the youth. "If you and your father had done as requested then you would have known about him hours ago," Blaine stated. Fenton blushed because it was the same lecture he had given his sons countless times.  
  
"I'll give you a lift to the hospital," Collig offered.  
  
"Thanks Ezra," Fenton said. On the drive over, Fenton remained silent and thoughtful. He couldn't help feeling that Joe's current life and death situation was all his fault.  
  
"What's wrong?" Frank asked, touching his father's shoulder and drawing his attention back from the darkness where it had been.  
  
"If I had given Joe the advance then none of this would have happened," Fenton said. "It was only a few dollars."  
  
"Not necessarily," Frank said. He told his dad what he had learned about Joe being set up in the mall.  
  
"But he wouldn't have been looking in the first place if I had just given him the money," Fenton pointed out.  
  
"Dad, you can't give us everything," Frank said. "Joe didn't really expect you to give him the money anyway," he continued. "He just did it because it's something a kid has to do. It's almost a rite of passage to ask your folks for advances until they say no."  
  
Fenton gave his son a wan smile. He knew Frank was trying to make him feel better but he couldn't shake the feeling he had caused the predicament Joe had gotten into. They arrived at the hospital and met Laura and Agent Billings in the waiting room.  
  
"Any word yet?" Frank asked.  
  
"No," Laura answered giving her son a hug after she recognized his voice and then leaning back and looking at him critically.  
  
"I'll change as soon as I can," Frank promised, knowing his mother strongly disapproved of his disguise.  
  
Agent Billings left the family alone after receiving a call from his superior and the Hardys settled in to await word on Joe's condition. It was two more hours before a door opened and Dr. Bainbridge exited.  
  
"Doctor?" Fenton demanded, leaping to his feet and hurrying over to meet the man.  
  
"Joe will be fine," Dr. Bainbridge assured the worried family. "There was a lot of internal bleeding but we managed to clean him up and removed his appendicitis that had ruptured. He will be very sore for a while and we are going to keep him for at least forty-eight hours but I foresee no problems baring an infection."  
  
"An infection?" Laura asked fearfully.  
  
"It is a possibility," the doctor said. "But I have him on antibiotics so it shouldn't become a problem."  
  
"Can we see him now?" asked Frank.  
  
"You may," the doctor answered. ""Nurse Davis will tell you where he has been taken."  
  
Nurse Davis sent the Hardys to the fourth floor. There they entered the second room on their right. "Hey, Baby Brother," Frank said softly as he neared Joe.  
  
Joe gave Frank a lopsided grin. "Geez, I'm out of commission for a couple of days and you go all hippie on me."  
  
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Frank returned, grinning because his brother's attempt at levity let him know Joe would be okay.  
  
"Hi, Son," Fenton said as he neared. Laura, at Fenton's side, leaned down and kissed Joe's forehead.  
  
"Hey," Joe returned with a wry grin. "I guess I won't need a job or an advance," he said. "The doc said it would be a couple of weeks at least before I'm back to normal."  
  
"I'm sorry, Joe," Fenton apologized, looking contrite.  
  
"Why?" Joe demanded. "It wasn't your fault. I know I spend too much and I will watch my finances more closely in the future."  
  
"But if you hadn't been looking for a job then..." Fenton began.  
  
"Then I would have gotten kidnapped some other way," Joe put in ruefully. "It was a set up," he said. "It just worked out easier for them this way." At this point he realized he hadn't asked a very important question. "Did you get them?"  
  
"The CIA did," Fenton acknowledged then launched into details.  
  
"Yeah, Agent Blaine even gave us a lecture about not letting them do their job," Frank put in.  
  
Joe's blue eyes gleamed mischievously. "So, we come by our disregard of authority legitimately."  
  
Fenton let out a guffaw and ruffled his son's hair. "You're right," he confessed. "I plead guilty."  
  
"What?" Laura asked, looking at the three in confusion.  
  
"Dad is always telling us that if we had waited then we would have been privy to more information or things of that nature," Joe informed her.  
  
"You're right!" Frank said, laughing. "I never realized." He grinned at his dad. "Does this mean we aren't going to get that lecture again?"  
  
"Well, not for two mysteries at any rate," Fenton said.  
  
"Sold!" Joe shouted.  
  
End 


End file.
